


Drachengift

by plutonianshores



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Implied Gangbang, M/M, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/pseuds/plutonianshores
Summary: Master Ikithon's lessons are rarely enjoyable. This one is worse than most.
Relationships: Caleb Widogast/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77
Collections: Heat Fic Summer 2020





	Drachengift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WretchedArtifact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WretchedArtifact/gifts).



> Title inspired by a quote from Friedrich Schiller's _Wilhelm Tell_ :
> 
>  _In gährend Drachengift hast du  
>  Die Milch der frommen Denkart mir verwandelt._  
> (To rankling poison hast thou turned in me the milk of human kindness.)

Later, Bren would mark the test as the first of many signs of weakness. Astrid and Eodwulf hadn’t been left shaking and afraid after their poison tests; they’d returned to the dormitory resolute and satisfied with their respective performances. Bren had plastered on a cocky smile (he was good at pretending, he’d always been good at that), hid his hands behind his back to conceal the shaking, and prayed to the gods he no longer believed had any interest in him that Master Ikithon would keep Bren’s shameful performance to himself.

Later yet, Caleb would look back on it as yet another atrocity Ikithon had committed. He wondered if Astrid and Eodwulf had even been faced with the same task, or if Ikithon had merely tormented Caleb, leaving him to assume the other two had been more competent when faced with the same humiliation. Or perhaps, like Caleb, they’d both been hiding too, all three of them terrified to show weakness and so posturing at insouciance.

As it happened, Bren had felt nothing but a desperation to please, coupled with a sickness in his gut that he couldn’t name.

They were never informed of the tests before they happened. Preparation would defeat the purpose, Ikithon said. So when Bren was pulled from supper with no warning, he knew what was coming. Or rather, he knew that he would hate whatever was coming. The three of them rarely talked amongst each other about what they faced during Ikithon’s challenges, but Bren’s tasks had never been pleasant, and he’d seen the injuries on Eodwulf and Astrid.

Even by the standards of the Academy, this task was cruel.

It began like any other lesson. Master Ikithon led Bren to a room he’d never seen before and offered him a goblet. A few months ago, Ikithon had given all three of them poison and set them loose in an apothecary to cure themselves. Bren took the goblet with a nod, prepared for another foul-tasting brew. Instead, it was sweet and warm, like spiced wine. He drained the goblet, handing it back to Ikithon.

Bren wanted very badly to ask what he’d just drunk, but he’d been trained too well to ask questions. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and waited.

It might have been poison after all. Bren’s face was growing hot, his heart pounding in his ears. His throat burned, and his skin was crawling. He waited to be released from attention so he could do something, _anything_ , to stop the heat from cooking him alive.

Ikithon leaned forward and ruffled a hand through Bren’s hair. Any other time, Bren would have frozen. Ikithon rarely touched them, and certainly never with any semblance of affection. But today, something in Bren wanted to lean into the touch. Without thinking, without any rational thought on his part, he moaned.

"Wonderful," Ikithon said, lips turned up in a tight smile. "We have some important guests visiting, and I expect you to entertain them."

Ikithon’s tone left no room to doubt exactly the sort of entertainment Bren would be providing. "I don’t…" he stammered, heart sinking at his incompetence. Any other day, Bren would have been punished for such an imbecilic answer.

But today, Ikithon didn’t seem to mind. "You’ll know what to do."

There were men in the room, now. Bren wasn’t sure when they’d arrived, or how he’d missed their entrance. Ikithon ought to punish him for being so unobservant – on a proper mission, this could have gotten Bren killed. Instead, Ikithon put a too-friendly hand on Bren’s shoulder and smiled at the men.

"I trust you’ve found your accommodations suitable."

One of the men nodded. "The Assembly is always most generous. And your students are always most obliging."

Bren didn’t like the way the man’s eyes trailed down his body. The heat was spreading through him now, all of him feverish and heavy. He could barely react when the man pulled him in by the hair and kissed him.

Bren didn’t want this. Bren wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything. The fever built up in his belly, thrumming through his veins with every touch. He’d always prided himself on his ability to keep silent. In the face of pain, while he was being punished or tortured or tested, Bren held his tongue.

Today, he moaned at every touch. The man pulled his hair, and it _hurt_ , and it made pleasure swell up inside of him.

Gods, he was _hard_.

The man forced Bren to his knees. He wouldn’t have needed the force. Bren wanted to be filled, even as the desire made him sick. Bren knew, mechanically, what he needed to do, but the actions weren’t trained into him like the gestures for spells or the swing of a fist. This gods-damned drug-induced enthusiasm might just make up for his inexperience – he gagged as the man forced his prick into Bren’s mouth, but he took all of it, gasping for breath through his nose as his mouth was filled.

He didn’t want this. He wanted this far more than he should.

If it weren’t for the sick guilt, this would be one of the easier tasks Ikithon had set him to. Just sit back on his heels and take what this man was forcing into him, how difficult could it be?

The man pulled back, keeping a hold on Bren’s head, and Bren was absurdly grateful for the touch. He might have fallen over without it, and he certainly wouldn’t have been able to stand without the man hauling him up.

The man forced him up against the wall, and Bren let it happen, feeling his cheekbone slam against the stone. That would bruise, some idle part of him thought. A much more present part wanted to press his own prick against the wall get some relief from the fire inside of him.

The man pulled his trousers down. Bren arched into his grasp, half thrilling at the touch and half hating himself for the desperation. With a murmured spell, something slick and warm filled Bren’s ass, and without any warning, the man slid into Bren.

He didn’t want this. He wanted this almost as much as he hated it.

Bren couldn’t keep silent. He moaned, and begged, and met the man at every thrust, pressing back into him desperately. Ikithon was watching, Bren could feel his eyes burning into him. He wanted to vomit. His teacher, seeing him like this...Bren would never be able to look him in the eyes again. He was weak. He should have been able to resist the potion Ikithon had given here. Instead he was begging for more, fondling his prick like a slut as the man fucked him into the wall.

He spent across his hand, but if anything, it only made the desire stronger. He tightened around the man’s prick, the sensations becoming unbearable. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to go on forever, until the desperation finally faded.

The man pulled out, spending hot across the small of Bren’s back. "Oh, he _is_ good," he said. "If you weren’t so protective of your students, I would ask to take him home with me."

Ikithon laughed. "I’ve put far too much into him to let him go."

Even here, a sticky bare-assed mess surrounded by men lining up to use him, the comment cut. That was all that Ikithon could say about Bren, that he’d taken effort.

Then the next man grabbed him, and all Bren could think was _touch me, more, please, fuck_.

When they’d had their fill, the visitors left Bren alone with Ikithon. Bren looked up at him, trying and failing to choke back the shame.

"You did well," he said, and gods, that shouldn’t have made Bren’s heart skip a beat. "Go back to your room."

"I want--" Bren murmured before he could think better of it, words slurred. He wanted Ikithon to hold him down and take him as well, to fuck this _need_ out of him. He started this, Bren thought, entirely irrationally, so he could end it.

Ikithon raised an eyebrow, and Bren knew that his desires had been far too obvious. "Go to bed."

Bren stopped to gather himself outside of the dormitory, cleaning himself as best he could and hiding his hands behind his back so the others wouldn’t see them shaking. He slept face-down on the bed, fighting the urge to jerk himself off until the fire in his belly faded. It wouldn’t help, he knew that, but gods, he needed _something_.

He woke up the next morning wonderfully, blessedly cold, but feeling hollowed-out and filthy. He grinned at Astrid and Eodwulf as they went to lessons, making sure they didn’t see the hitch in his step. Soon, he hoped, he’d be able to forget about this latest challenge.

Bren never forgot, until the day when he forgot everything. When Caleb came back to himself, he remembered as well, recalling that twisted rush of pleasure every time he thought about touching someone else. He knew, rationally, that of all the things he’d done in Ikithon’s name, he was closest to blameless for this. But he couldn’t push away the guilt all the same.


End file.
